Just Like Home
by fandombloggingaddict
Summary: Walkers get in the walls at Alexandria, and Daryl has to duck into the nearest house - Pete's. Turns out he would've been better off facing the dead. - Abuse, manipulation, and no escape are in store for the hunter.
1. You Don't Belong

**A/N: Welcome, reader, to the latest story in my head! If you enjoy gratuitous Daryl whump or studying his character in different situations, this is the fic for you.**

 **Basics: AU-esque bc it doesn't really follow the canon plot past Rick meeting Jessie's husband Pete that night walking alone. If Daryl seems out of character, it's probably because we haven't seen him in a position of high stress and manipulation like this before, so we haven't seen how he'd react to it. Here's my best guess. Will be multiple chapters, no character death.**

 **Warnings: Abuse, violence, manipulation, threats, alcoholism, trauma, panic attacks.**

 **Yeah, I'm less worried about spoiling it for ya and more concerned with making sure you, dear reader, know what you're about to face. Be safe and enjoy!**

It was a mistake. No one wanted this to happen. Later, some would blame the newcomers, Rick's group. Some in Rick's group would blame Alexandrians for not understanding the risk of complacency. No matter who was to blame, though, everyone had to face the consequences.

Everything had been going well - or, at least, as well as it could have been. There were some tensions between groups, but the newcomers were fitting in nicely. The town was calm and even humming with activity.

Then, someone left the gate open. No one saw one of the dead slip in, then two, then seven... and eventually, there were a few dozen roaming around. By the time that someone was attacked and killed, there was a panic. Most that were able to started to fight them off, making a path for the others to escape a horde and get into a house. The fighters - mainly Rick's group and the Alexandrians that regularly went on runs - were trying to cut down the geeks and get to the gate to shut it. But there were too many, and a few from the town had already turned by then. Eventually, everyone had to find shelter inn a house and find a solution in safety.

Near the start, Daryl was walking alone. When half a dozen walkers ambled around the corner and bared their teeth at him, speeding up, he had to duck into an open garage since his weapons were in the armory. On his way inside he knocked over some kind of metal frame or sculpture or something - he wasn't sure what the hell it was, but it made one hell of a racket. That drew more of the dead as the hunter found the switch to lose the garage door just before the geeks made it to the opening. He sighed in relief as they were shut out.

A door slammed behind him. Daryl spun to see the town's doctor leaning against it, breathing heavily as if he'd just run in and was hiding from something.

"What the hell?" Pete snarled as he saw the hunter in the room with him. "What are you doing in my house?"

"Walkers got in the walls," Daryl offered, stepping back and angling himself like he usually did when facing someone he didn't trust. His eyes were narrowed skeptically.

"Yeah, got that when they got in my DAMN house!" The doctor growled, moving from the door and starting toward the other man. Daryl scrunched his nose as Pete's breath hit him, reeking of alcohol. The man was drunk.

"Yer wife, kids..." Daryl's question didn't need to be spoken.

"They weren't here when it happened. Probably holed up with Rick," Pete spat angrily. "And you, you think you can just barge in here after what your group did?"

Daryl stepped back as the drunk advanced on him. "Din' do nothin'," He replied, confused.

"You ruined what we had! All of you, you think you belong. Well let me tell you something." The man pushed Daryl into the wall. "You DON'T belong."

The hunter snarled. "Step off."

Pete laughed hauntingly. "Make me."

Daryl shook his head. "Ain't that guy," He said flatly, keeping a wary eye on the drunk.

"Maybe I am." Pete's eyes lit up with rage and he punched Daryl in the jaw, knocking his head to the side. Before he recovered, Pete punched him in the gut with all of his force. The hunter fell to one knee, the tall man standing over him. Daryl started to get up but the doctor kicked him under the chin, knocking his head back into the concrete wall.

Daryl groaned over the loud crack of the impact. His vision blurred. Pete kicked him in the side as he tried to stand again. The hunter had figured he'd defend himself when it came to that, but now his vision was swimming and it was too little too late as the drunk kicked him over and over. The downed man swept his leg out to trip his attacker and Pete stumbled. Daryl started to pull himself up.

Pete straightened up and growled, grabbing the hunter by his hair and slamming his head into the wall, pleased at the thud before he let go. Daryl slid down the wall. He was blinking rapidly and it was clear why as his head left a trail of blood down the wall from being smashed into the concrete. The doctor stooped to grab him by the neck and drag him back up until the reeling man was on his tiptoes. Daryl gasped and grunted, trying to breathe despite the tight grip on his throat.

"You are nothing," Pete laughed, his voice a little shaky from the alcohol. "You're just some damn hick that doesn't fit in, no one will care what happens to someone like you." He leaned in, locking onto Daryl's slightly unfocused eyes. "I could kill you right now and no one would even notice you were gone."

The hunter's grasp on the hand gripping his throat tightened. He was trying to remove the restriction on his breathing, but Pete just snarled and applied more pressure. The hunter dug his nails into the hand and Pete balled his other hand into a fist, driving it into his chest. Daryl didn't let up, so Pete continued to punch him until the hunter's grip went loose and he passed out from lack of oxygen. Pete huffed in annoyance and let him fall to the floor.

The doctor kicked the fallen man in the stomach before going to the other side of the room. He rummaged around in the junk on the worktable there and, sure enough, he found a lunch box. Something his bitch wife kept prepared in case she was working on her stupid owl sculpture through a meal. Inside was a sandwich, a water bottle, an apple, and a knife for the fruit. He grabbed the sandwich and sat against the wall, settling in. Someone in town would clear this up eventually. For now, he just had to sit back and relax.

Having that asshole Dixon on the other side of the room wasn't much of a comfort, but knowing he would be in no shape to pose a threat was. After finishing the food, Pete was content and he dozed off.


	2. Pride

**A/N: Chapter 2, posted along with Chapter 1. I have a lot already done, so I may as well give you a good chunk of it before I pace myself.**

 **Looks like the danger hasn't passed yet for Daryl...**

Hours later he woke up to the sound of walkers getting loud outside. He wasn't particularly worried, though; there was no way the dead would be able to get through the garage door. It was day now, seeing as it was bright outside. His watch told him that he'd been trapped for a good ten hours, and the buzz of alcohol had worn off by now. Pete looked over to the man he'd beaten and strangled. Dixon had moved a foot or so, now sitting up against the wall, arms resting on his bent knees. He looked like shit, bloody and bruised. He was awake, too, watching Pete warily.

The doctor smiled coldly. "Good morning."

Daryl didn't respond.

The doctor shrugged. Then he stood and went to the lunch box, pulling out the plastic water bottle. He turned and faced the hunter, whose eyes immediately locked onto the bottle. Pete took a long sip, then leaned back leisurely against the work table.

"Thirsty?"

Daryl's eyes shifted to the man's, then back to the bottle, nodding slightly. He was really thirsty.

"What was that?" The doctor asked mockingly, showing he expected Daryl to voice his need.

The hunter snarled. "Ain't gonna beg."

"Oh, but if you want this, you will. Because I have no idea how long we'll be stuck in here, and I'm not convinced it's worth my while to give you anything."

Daryl just shook his head incredulously, his eyes shifting to the ground.

Hours passed uneventfully. Pete was content sitting on his side of the room reading the magazines by the lunch box. He had his watch so time was of no concern to him. The hunter had no sense of time, though - usually his internal clock was reliable, but with the hits to the head, a lot of things were blurry. It felt like days passed, but he knew that wasn't possible because he would have died of dehydration by that point.

His mouth and throat were drier than a dirt road in drought season. He'd gotten a few painful coughing fits, his dry and bruised throat starting it and his bruised ribs making breathing harder in general. By nightfall, it was nearing the sensation of wandering the road in the large group without water, when dehydration had been a very real threat.

Finally, Pete fell asleep. The half-empty water bottle was next to him but not in his hand. Daryl saw his chance and gingerly got to his feet. He was unsteady but careful not to make any sound as he headed over to the other side of the garage. The sound of moaning and scraping from walkers outside and inside the house covered his small sounds of pain. When he got near, the hunter knelt beside the sleeping man and reached for the bottle.

Pete's eyes shot open and he grabbed the hunter's wrist. Daryl yelped and fell in panicked surprise. Pete looked darkly amused and livid at the same time as he stood over the other man. He bent the wrist in his grip until the downed man was grimacing.

"Thought you could get away with stealing from me?" His voice was low and deadly. He bent the wrist farther and it snapped, forcing a ragged scream out of Daryl. "You'd better stay the hell away from me, or I'll break more than that."

The hunter was wheezing, eyes squeezed shut as the doctor twisted his broken wrist further. Pete grabbed the other's shirt and dragged him to the other side of the room, then stepped back. Daryl glared up at him as Pete grabbed a crowbar from the work table. "Maybe next time, you'll hesitate before you steal from someone that matters."

While Pete was sleeping restfully on his own side of the garage, Daryl was fading in and out of consciousness. While he was awake, he was focused on regulating his shallow breaths. If he didn't, he'd cough, then get caught up in a coughing fit, and Pete would wake up.

It was so stupid that he thought he was past danger when he'd ducked into the garage to escape the dead. He should never have forgotten for a second how dangerous people could be. Hell, he'd grown up understanding it, but now when his life depended on it, he didn't flinch to let someone step up to him. He hadn't even fought back after that first punch, understanding how important it was to his group for this Alexandria thing to work out. Well, shit, now he was going to die here, and it was just because some guy decided wanted to have power and control over something in a time of danger.

So here he was, lying on the ground with a few broken bones and no way out. Oh, and he was gonna die from dehydration if he didn't get water in the next few hours.

And he would be fine with all of that if it was worth it if he at least knew his family was safe. But he had no idea if anyone else made it. For all he knew, he and Pete were the only people alive in the whole world. The doctor didn't seem to get that; he was still in the mindset of the coddled townspeople who were used to safety and security.

Daryl was so, so thirsty. Maybe at the beginning of the end of the world, when he was an outsider and a proud Dixon, he would have rather died than sacrifice his pride. But after years of risking his life and learning more about people, he learned that he had to live no matter what because he was one factor that kept his group from death every day. If he was gone, no one would hunt for them, and if people were the most valuable thing left, then he was too. So the hunter sucked it up and cleared his throat.

"Hey," he rasped. Not loud enough. He repeated it louder.

Pete shifted, then inhaled deeply as he woke. The doctor rubbed his eyes and stood. He picked up the water bottle and took a swig of fresh water, then looked over at the hunter lying on the floor where he'd left him.

"Want something?" He asked.

Daryl hesitated to draw further attention to himself but pushed on. "'M thirsty."

A small, amused smirk spread on the tall man's smug face. "What about it?"

The hunter worried his lip. "Cin I have some a yer water?"

'What's the magic word?" Pete prompted condescendingly.

"Please?"

The doctor chuckled and ambled over with the bottle. Daryl tensed as he got closer. He flinched when Pete grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up, shoving him back into the wall behind him to sit him up. Daryl cried out at the harsh handling that made his busted ribs shift.

"Shut up," Pete hissed dangerously. He twisted the lid of the bottle and held it to the gasping man's lips, tilting it and grabbing a handful of Daryl's long hair to guide his head. The water slid down his sore throat and felt like heaven. The bottle was taken away too soon, but he couldn't ask for more.

"What do you say?"

Daryl didn't respond immediately, which earned a punch to the face. The hunter spat blood off to the side before diverting his eyes and rasping, "Thank you."


	3. Every Little Thing

**A/N: Thanks for following and favoriting! If you're ever left waiting for the next chapter, just drop a review, I'll try to get right on it - a PM will be super effective to get a story back on the roll.**

 **Now, what will Daryl do next? What** ** _can_** **he do? Continue, dear reader, and see for yourself!**

By the next morning, the walkers outside were cleared. People were outside, yelling for their loved ones and finding each other after hiding for two days. Someone was inside the house, clearing it. Pete listened hard to learn who it was. It was Rick, calling out for Jessie and her family.

Daryl was still out so Pete rushed over and shook his shoulder. Daryl woke with a start, crying out and flinching away.

"Shut up," Pete spoke in an undertone. "The town's cleared, Rick's about to barge in looking for survivors." He dragged the hunter up by the neck and got him to his feet, still strangling him. "If you tell anyone," he snarled, "I will kill you, and maybe a few of your group. How about the old lady that serves food? Or how about the baby?"

Daryl inhaled sharply and shook his head.

"Say it!" Pete muttered, hurried.

"I-" He wheezed, struggling to breathe. "w-won't, I won't tell."

"Get out," Pete ordered, flipping the switch to raise the garage door and shoving Daryl out when it was up. The hunter stumbled away, out of sight before Rick opened the interior door.

"Pete," He said, sounding disappointed like he'd been hoping to find Pete's family safe.

"Rick," The doctor replied.

"Rick, we found the kids at the school, Carl's safe!" Maggie called from the street, seeing Rick in the garage through the open door.

"What about Ron and Sam?" Rick asked.

Maggie smiled. "Safe with their mother at the pantry."

"Good," Pete interjected, leaving to see them. Rick watched him go, skeptical.

Daryl staggered down the street, trying to stay out of sight. His frazzled mind was frantically running through his options. He had to keep the secret, but he could need help. Mostly, he needed someone he could trust and somewhere he could hide. He couldn't think of anyone other than Aaron. The hunter headed toward his and Eric's house, hoping they'd made it.

When he got to their front door, he knocked. Best not to barge in and give one of them a heart attack.

Eric answered the door. He looked relieved to see Daryl, but his eyes widened when he took in his condition. "My lord, Daryl, what happened?"

"C'n I come in?" The hunter asked breathlessly, leaning against the door frame.

"Of course, of course," Eric opened the door wider and stepped back. Daryl entered, shaking from the effort of getting this far. He collapsed into a set at the dining table inside as Eric shut the front door.

"'M sorry," The hunter mumbled absently.

"Whatever you need, I want to help. No need to apologize." Eric's words were sincere as he pulled a chair over to sit next to the injured man.

"Aaron, he's not-"

"Oh, no, he's fine, we were home when the town went into a frenzy. Is it okay if I go get him? This isn't a big secret, right?"

The weary man felt warmed by the considerate words, almost flattered that Eric would consider keeping a secret from Aaron for someone he barely knew. But he had to make sure he kept this quiet. He struggled for a moment to find the right thing to say, how to explain without giving anything away.

"You c'n get him, but..." Daryl paused, worrying his lip as he did when nervous. "Uh, just, no questions?" He sounded unsure, anxious. "And you can't tell nobody." He backtracked, trying not to sound demanding. "I mean, I'm trusting you guys."

Eric smiled gently. "Alright." His heart broke when Daryl looked no less on edge. "And Daryl?"

The hunter didn't make eye contact, but he held his breath in anticipation.

"We're here for you no matter what you need. Thank you for trusting us. Our home is open to you anytime."

Daryl nodded, then closed his eyes and sagged back into the chair. Eric smiled for real. It looked like that had been exactly what the hunter had needed to hear, that he was safe. Eric stood to get Aaron.

"What happened?" Aaron asked before he was even in front of Daryl. "How bad is it?"

"Honey, no questions," Eric reminded.

"Right," Aaron slowed down, eyes locked on Daryl but softening as he calmed down. "Sorry. Um..." Aaron scrambled to find what to say without setting the hunter on edge. "We have an ice pack and a pretty well-stocked First Aid kit for bad runs."

Daryl nodded and Aaron went to grab the kit from the bathroom. Eric laughed quietly as his partner ducked out. "He's great when it comes to facing the dead outside the walls, but when someone he loves gets hurt-"

Daryl's eyes shot to Eric at that.

"Uh, sorry. Love is a strong word. I mean we care about you. You're, like, his only friend." Eric chuckled, looking back toward the doorway Aaron had gone through.

The hunter exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, able to breathe easy for the first time in days. Maybe he could stay here for now, and he'd get better, and everything would be fine.

Yeah, he thought to himself, trying to ignore the underlying fear that had been sitting like a rock in his gut since Pete first struck him. Yeah, everything will be fine...


	4. Tasted the Honey

**A/N: If you like this story, maybe you should check out the new Walking Dead kinkmeme - totally some interesting prompts, and I have a few short fics up there. It's still new, so join in! Heaven knows the original Walking Dead kinkmeme was** ** _amazing_** **.** **twd - kinkmeme - redux . dreamwidth . org (take out the spaces)**

 **Alright, so let's see what's up with Daryl, and how it's going with the boys he's staying with! I sure hope the poor hunter is in the clear now that he's found someone to trust.**

Aaron and Eric were fine with him staying until he was healed up some. They were worried, but really good about not asking questions. That really made Daryl trust them all the more. Even Rick, someone he'd do anything for, would ask and ask and poke and prod if he thought there was any danger. But These two understood that Daryl had his reasons to not talk about it, and right now it was infinitely more important to heal than to explain.

After a week, The minor injuries were just faded bruises. Of course, the ribs - some broken, others bruised - still hurt like a bitch. And his broken wrist was still far from healed, treated only by being wrapped in some gauze.

But all in all, the risk of driving his group mad from not knowing what was happening, and driving himself mad with feeling trapped inside, was too great to stay inside longer. Of course, he'd asked Aaron to tell Rick that he was alive but that he needed to heal up in peace. Rick and the group had wanted to come see him, aggressively so, by Aaron was dutifully adamant. Not until Daryl was ready.

Now, he was. He was up early, anxious about going out. There was a lot to consider. How would he answer the group's questions? What if they didn't believe him? Would he stay with Aaron and Eric longer?

What if Pete-

No, Daryl cut his own thought process off. He was fine. Pete couldn't do anything to him.

The healing man slowly walked downstairs, minding his aching ribs, and sat at the dining table.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Eric chirped, then nudged the hunter's shoulder.

Daryl didn't even flinch. In fact, he nodded and said, "You too, 'lovebug'."

Eric gasped theatrically. "Oh, you did not. Aaron told you? AARON!" Eric called out. "Aaron, get your ass in here, what did you tell him?"

Aaron walked in, smiling wryly. "What did I do this time?"

"You total pig, you were bragging about your conquests again! I swear, you find any man that will listen to you and you swap stories like they were baseball cards!"

"Oh, come one, lovebug..."

"Cut it OUT!" Eric swatted at Aaron as the latter walked past him to dish out breakfast.

Daryl tried to suppress a smile at the antics. Aaron and Eric were mindful not to get too lovey-dovey around him, but Eric had no reservations in being totally cheesy when he was tired.

"Oh, shut up, Daryl," Eric sighed at the hunter's failed attempt at hiding his amusement.

From his first step outside, Daryl looked around to take in the changes. They weren't obvious, but a hunter could see them. There were some people that would usually walk around that he didn't see, probably lost to the dead. A few people looked to be mourning.

But he did see Glenn walking out of their group's house, so the hunter headed that way.

He made it halfway when Glenn saw him.

Glenn's face lit up and he grinned. "Daryl! I was starting to think you were never going to come out of there!"

The hunter made it over to him and accepted a hug, wincing at the pressure. "Good to see you," He offered.

"Hey, why don't you come in and see to everyone? Judith's been crying non-stop, we all think she misses you too."

"Yeah, sounds good."

It was good to be back with his friends. Years ago, he would have preferred death over polite interaction with others, but not now. The feeling that washed over him when he saw all of them safe and happy was amazing. They were all overjoyed to see him. Judith was especially happy, instantly wanting to be held by the ragged man.

When Rick asked what had happened, Daryl answered that he'd been swamped by walkers in the panic and he'd taken some damage in the struggle along with scared townsfolk knocking him down. He chalked it all up to being an unavoidable, slightly embarrassing mess that he'd just wanted to get out of the way before facing them. But he was better now, he promised, and everything was fine.

They ate it up and continued to chat until they all got to update him on life since the panic and grew tired of socializing. Rick was taking Carl out to the woods to hunt, relax, whatever. The others went about their daily business. Daryl decided to go see Carol at the pantry, where she went early in the morning as it opened to get supplies for lunch.

When he got there, the woman running the food supply - he didn't remember her name but she didn't mind - let him in, making him promise not to take any chocolate. He made his way to the back and found Carol filling a basket with cans of food.

"Always knew you were a stress-eater." He quipped as a greeting. She spun around and smiled at the sight of him.

"Daryl!" She replied warmly. "It's so good to see you!" She set the basket down and hugged him tight. He grunted and she pulled away.

"Are you alright?" She eyed him warily, worried he was hurt.

"'M fine. You makin' that casserole again?"

She looked skeptical, but let him change the subject. "Yes. Why, don't you like it?"

He shrugged. "Could use some more meat."

"Oh, you think everything could use some more meat!" She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "If you had your way, we'd be eating venison at every meal."

"'S good for ya."

"So are tomatoes and spinach." Carol offered.

Daryl was about to respond with a joke about how she only liked canned food because she didn't have to work to get it, when someone else spoke.

"Well, I'll be."

Daryl tensed and turned around. There, in the narrow hallway, stood Pete.

"Haven't seen you around in a while, Daryl, heard you weren't feeling well. Want to come in for a checkup? Don't get many patients these days."

Daryl forced himself to remain calm. He looked Pete in the eyes. "'M busy."

Pete walked closer until he was standing next to him. "In my experience, there is no time like the present." Out of Carol's sight, he grabbed Daryl's broken wrist and squeezed. The hunter fought to hide his pain, swallowing a yell.

"Uh, sure, why not." Pete let go, flashed a polite but strained smile at Carol, and left first. Daryl nodded to her then followed the doctor out.

Carol watched them go, not trusting the interaction for a second.


	5. Just What the Doctor Ordered

Once they were inside the doctor's empty office, he locked the door and spun on the hunter.

"You piece of shit," he growled, "You told, didn't you?!" He backed the shorter man into a corner.

"I didn't," Daryl defended himself, feeling dread in his gut the second his back met the wall. He was trapped.

"Then WHERE have you BEEN the past week, you complete IDIOT?" Pete nearly yelled, grabbing Daryl by the shirt and slamming him back into the wall. "You stayed with those fags. There's no WAY they didn't notice!" He was shaking with rage.

"I didn't say nothin', jus' needed somewhere t'-"

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" Pete bellowed, then held his forearm against the trapped man's neck.

Daryl gasped shallowly as his air was nearly cut off. His hands grabbed Pete's arm. "'M not, they don't know-"

"YOU'RE LYING!" Pete pushed his arm forward, effectively cutting off Daryl's air. The hunter struggled, pulling at his attacker's arm and trying desperately to draw air from his lungs. His feet scrambled against the floor as he jerked. Pete pressed harder, enraged and fully content to watch this scum struggle.

Daryl fought for thirty seconds before his lips got a faint tinge of blue and he was spluttering, his mind begging for oxygen.

He tried to speak, but he just spluttered, having no air. "Stop," His lips formed the word. "Stop."

Pete sighed and stepped away, allowing the hunter to fall. Daryl choked and heaved in air, holding his neck as he breathed greedily. Pete kicked him harshly and knocked him back into the wall. Daryl was still gasping, but his listless eyes ended up on the man standing over him.

"You told."

Daryl shook his head jerkily.

"No, you did. Now, you will make sure it doesn't happen again. Because if I find out that anyone so much as thinks I am anything less than a selfless doctor," He kicked Daryl again, and again, and continued kicking until the hunter cried out in pain as another rib broke. "If you tell..." He kicked more, but this time, he didn't stop of his own accord. Daryl panicked as he realized he might not stop. He looked up and saw the unbridled rage in the man's eyes. He wasn't going to stop. Daryl choked on a scream as one brutal kick broke two ribs at once. He could barely breathe through the agony.

"P-plea-" The word was cut off with a wet gasp as the next kick hit the newly broken ribs. "Please," He begged, the end of the word rising in pitch as the next kick hit ribs damaged a week before.

"Shut up," Pete sneered.

"Ple-e-ease," Daryl's breath hitched as he desperately tried to breathe. "Stop."

"Shut UP!"

A few more kicks and the hitter was near passing out from the anguish. "I'm s-AHH!" He cried out brokenly. "'M sorry! I-I'm sor-" A grunt of pain. "-ry, 'm sorry, 'm s-sorry."

Pete stopped kicking him. "What was that?"

Daryl was hyperventilating, his mind overridden with panic and agony and shame. "'M... 'm sorry."

"I'll make you sorry, boy," Pete promised, kneeling to grab the shaking man by the shirt. Dragging him up to his feet this time was harder than before because Daryl tried to twist out of his grip. This made Pete angrier. He was about to go off when Daryl panicked again.

"Wait, 'm sorry, it just h-hurts..."

"Not yet, it doesn't!" He raised his fist and the hunter cringed.

"PLEASE! Wait, please, I'm sorry, I'm SORRY!" He begged.

Pete stopped. "Then make sure you keep quiet, got it?"

Daryl nodded quickly, holding his hands in front of him placatingly.

The doctor reluctantly accepted the answer and pulled the hunter up by his shirt. Daryl groaned, earning him a backhand across the face.

"You're weak," Pete scoffed.

Daryl didn't respond, he just followed as the doctor pulled him over to a seat to properly wrap his injuries.

It got a lot harder from then on out to act normal. Now he knew that it wasn't over, that Pete had complete control and could get him anytime. And Daryl couldn't stay with Aaron and Eric anymore since that apparently counted as telling, just letting someone else see the damage or help in any way. He stayed in an empty house on the far end of town. The town being a small walled-in area, he wasn't that far from the center of activity, but since he woke up early and got out and about before everyone else, no one saw where he stayed. He interacted with the group so they knew he was still around, of course, but he didn't tell them anything. He listened to their stories and concerns and he even watched Judith sometimes, keeping appearances.

Meanwhile, the beatings got worse, if that was even possible. It took all of his willpower to act normal every day when at every sundown he had to go to Pete's office where the lightest punishment for the day's grievances was being thrown into the wall, and the worst was getting beaten until he passed out, only to wake up to a kick in the side and an order to "get the hell out".

Every time he was taking the punishment, Pete reminded him that there was nothing he could do to speak up against the town's only doctor. And honestly, would he want to speak against the town's doctor? What if Pete was kicked out and someone important, like Judith, needed medical help?

It was a stupid reason to let it go on, but honestly, he saw no other option. Pete really was needed. And naturally, Daryl now realized the guy was an abusive husband and dad - no normal guy could do this to another person without experience - but he wasn't laying into his wife and kids now that he had a "scumbag hick" at his disposal. So basically, everyone was a lot safer if Daryl could just shut up and take it like a man.

That's how he convinced himself to take it. Because he had to.

He actually started to revert back to his old thinking. To the way he got by before all this, way back when he was living with his Pa. Daryl still acted the same with his group, but his mind was all fear and anger and shame and overthinking what he could have done wrong. Literally anything could go wrong and he flinched, sure he would have to pay for it later.

And usually, he would.


	6. Still Just a Rat in a Cage

**A/N: Thank you for the views,** ** _re_** **vies, follows, and favorites - they are all very much appreciated.**

 **So** ** _now_** **what is that bastard Pete going to do?**

Maybe Pete thought Daryl was getting to be too much to handle, or he just wanted to make sure the hunter stayed in his control. either way, Pete decided to declare that Daryl's "injuries" from those days of the walker attack had gotten worse, not better, and he had to stay in the doctor's home under supervision and treatment until he recovered.

When the others heard this, it wasn't too hard to believe, since Daryl did look like he was getting worse rather than better. Of course, Carol was certain it was a lie. Glenn was skeptical of the doctor's words. Rick was busy keeping the peace along with Michonne. The others in the group were worried but didn't ask questions. All in all, a mere pair of skeptics had no power to look into it.

So Pete led Daryl to his home.

The hunter followed reluctantly, sure this was the last time he'd see the open sky. He'd be a damn fool to think this wasn't an end game for the sadistic man.

Once inside, Pete grabbed the hurt man's still healing broken wrist and quickly led him down the hall. They passed the kitchen, where Jessie stood making dinner. She looked up to see her husband practically dragging someone along. Her heart leaped into her throat as she panicked and thought it was Ron. But no, it was someone bigger.

"Pete? Who's that?" She followed them into the hallway.

Pete's grip on his broken wrist was too tight and they were walking too fast, Daryl practically being dragged along. The usually sure-footed hunter stumbled as his knees gave out. The doctor let go with a rough growl. Daryl skittered back until his back hit the wall as he instinctively pulled away from the impending punishment.

"Honey?" Jessie asked as she stared at the scene. She didn't know Daryl much at all, but she knew Rick trusted him more than anyone. Something wasn't right if the usually stoical and unsociable man was in her house... especially if he was sitting with his back to the wall, shaking and avoiding eye contact.

"Get back in the kitchen," Pete ordered, still focused on the injured man in front of him

"Daryl, are you okay?" She asked anyway, starting toward the fallen man to help him up.

"I SAID GET OUT!" The doctor roared.

Jessie flinched, but not as badly as Daryl. She hesitantly stepped back but didn't leave.

It was enough for Pete. He snarled down at the hunter, "Get up." Daryl tried to obey immediately, not willing to put Jessie in danger by angering him further, but his exhausted and damaged body was reluctant to stand again. He tried to use the wall as leverage but his ribs screamed in protest. A grunt of pain escaped as he tried again.

"You're useless," Pete ground out as he grabbed the struggling man's collar and dragged him up. He shoved the injured man farther down the hall. Jessie blanched when she realized the only thing down there was the door to the basement.

"Pete, please, what did he do?" She spoke gently, trying to fix this. Whatever happened, there was no way Rick's group would have let this happen knowingly. In that case, her husband was doing this for himself, because he genuinely wanted Daryl to be in a world of pain. And when Pete got it in his head to punish someone, he followed through.

"Wanna tell her?" Pete asked, shoving Daryl especially hard to get him to talk. Daryl didn't say anything, so Pete pushed him harder, sending him into the basement door, here his temple smacked into the wood. Daryl tripped but managed to stay upright, his eyes a little glazed from the hit to the head.

"Tell her why you're here."

Daryl looked at him then immediately diverted his eyes, looking at the floor. He worried his lip, anxious about making Pete angrier.

"'Cause I weren't careful?" His southern accent, unique to the mountains of Georgia, was stronger nowadays since he was set back in his old mentality. He sounded young, afraid.

"That's right," Pete said dangerously, sounding almost... excited. "You couldn't take it like a man, keep quiet. Now you're gonna pay for what you've done."

"'M sorry," Daryl mumbled out of habit.

"Aw," Pete grabbed the injured man by the chin. "Don't say that." He leaned in, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You're not sorry yet."

With that, he yanked open the door to the basement and shoved the wide-eyed man inside.

Daryl gasped, but the moment he hit the steps a scream was torn from him as his leg, then an arm, snapped. As he tumbled down the hard wooden stairs, he took more damage than in any beating. When he hit the bottom, his head snapped back and met the concrete floor with a sickening crack.

Pete laughed from the doorway while Jessie stared, horrified. Daryl groaned, his head rolling slowly as his glassy eyes searched the dark basement listlessly. The door slammed shut from above. Daryl shuddered and passed out.

Pain. So, so much pain. The second he came to, his mind screamed as his veins lit with fiery pain. His bones ground and his muscles twitched, strained and throbbing with a deep ache. He didn't open his eyes, terrified to see his own broken body. But he heard soft scuttling, tiny scratches and squeaks. Rats. Some of those things could eat a man alive if starved enough. Daryl's eyes shot open at the thought, and his unfocused eyes searched desperately for the vermin.

He needed to move. He needed to feel a wall to his back, something he was used to. It might mean he was cornered, but it was something solid. Something to keep him focused and upright. So he started to drag himself backward using his good arm, ironically the one with the broken wrist. His right forearm's sharp stabbing pain meant it was broken. It took ages and he passed out a few times, but he made it to the back wall eventually. He sat back against it gratefully, glad he could still do anything, even something that small.

He was so thirsty and his muscles were so sore from immobility, he must've been stuck down there for hours, maybe eight. He was sure he'd die down there no matter whether Pete planned to let him out or not.

He jumped when the door creaked open. Someone came down the stairs. He realized that he was hyperventilating.

"Daryl?" A soft voice called out from across the room. A lady. Jessie, it had to be Jessie his muddled mind told him.

"Jessie?" The broken man whispered, his voice too hoarse to speak much louder. Plus, he had a feeling she wasn't supposed to be down here.

"Daryl," She sighed in relief as she crossed the room to see him. When she got within a few feet, though, he whimpered and backed into the nearest corner. "I'm not going to hurt you," Her voice sounded so sad. He felt bad for making her sound like that. "I want to help."

"Y' can't," He rasped. "He, he'll..."

"It's okay, he's asleep. He doesn't know I'm down here."

"Please," Daryl pleaded with her. "It's not safe."

Jessie knelt beside him, saddened by his instinctive flinch. "How long has this been going on?"

Daryl looked her in the eye, searching for anything mocking. He found only sincerity and turned to look at the ground. "When the walkers, when they got in the gate, I uh..." He pulled his legs up so he could cross his arms and rest his head on them on his knees, almost hiding. "I took cover in the first place I ducked into. Yer garage." He cleared his dry throat. "Uh, closed the door, and he came in, sayin' there was walkers in yer house. An' he," Daryl's voice cracked and he stopped.

"The walkers were inside the walls for three days, how did you get out after... that?"

Daryl's breath hitched but he refused to let that damn tear welling in his eye fall. He weren't gonna cry about something this dumb, he swore to himself. "I didn't."

"What did he do?"

"I cain't-"

"Please, Daryl," She urged, "All this time, he was hurting you inst-... instead of me. I need to know."

Daryl shook his head, thinking. "He, uh, he..." The injured man exhaled shakily, trying to get the words out. "He said me an' mah group were ruinin' somthin' good, an' he said ah don' belong." Daryl paused. Jessie cold tell that being told he didn't belong had hit a deep nerve. She also noticed that the man's accent grew thicker when he was upset. "An' he hit me, but ah din't fight a'cause a Rick. Him, Carl, Judith... we all need this place. So ah tried to be good, I did," Daryl's voice cracked again and he couldn't hold back a small sob. "But he kept hittin' an' kickin'. Din' gimme no water or nuthin', an' when I tried t' get it," He shuddered harshly. "He took up a crowbar."

"Daryl, I'm so sorry," Jessie said quietly. "I didn't know, I just saw he was calmer at home after the attack. I swear I didn't know he was hurting you."

"S'okay," He was trying to calm down but he felt really panicky. "S-s'nothin'. You been takin' it long enough, righ'?"

She paused. "You were protecting us." It was a realization.

He turned his head to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "No way out, 'm jus' glad it did s'm good."

"You could have gotten out," She shook her head, "You weren't married to him."

"He's th' damn doctor, an' if Rick knew, he'd kill him. You know Rick would kill him."

"Rick's a good man," Jessie looked affronted. "He wouldn't-"

"Listen, yer nice, but don't think you know us. We ain't stuck in th' past. We protect our own."

Jessie flinched. "I protect my own," She sounded angry. "And we're not stuck in the past. I think you are."

Daryl sat back and inhaled sharply, keeping her within his line of sight now, feeling on edge. "'M not sayin'-"

"What's your problem, anyway? You don't know my life, how can you act like you know Pete? Don't act like you know anyone in this town."

Daryl wasn't sure whether to be defensive or to be angry. "Ah know some."

"Just because he hit you doesn't mean you know him, or me, or my sons."

"Bet ah know 'em better'n you," He growled. "Lemme guess, ya never left 'cause ya thought they needed a dad, an' they never forgave ya."

"How do you-"

"He hit 'em too?" Daryl asked gravely.

Jessie didn't answer.

"'S what I thought."

Jessie stood abruptly and dropped the water bottle she'd brought down for him. She left without another word.

 **A/N: Hoohoohoo, whaddya think? Not sure what's running through Jessie's mind? Think Daryl's stuck down there? Drop a review if you've got anything to say. I know I would.**


	7. What It Takes

Daryl fell in and out of consciousness over the next few hours. He was finally jerked back to the waking world when someone touched his broken leg. He came to with a gasp, immediately trying to get away. But they grabbed his leg tight and he fell still with a hoarse scream of agony.

"You never learn," Pete sighed. "Hold still, dumbass." He pressed a plank of wood on each side of the leg, then tied them in place with sturdy gauze. Daryl was hard-pressed to stay still and quiet, but he still couldn't help but twitch and make small sounds of pain. When Pete finished, the crude cast was secure enough to guide the bone to heal straight.

"Give me your arm," He said. Despite how calm he sounded, Daryl's mind screamed that he was about to be punished. He hesitated.

"Dumb bastard," Pete huffed as he leaned forward and snatched Daryl's broken arm, pulling it toward him. Daryl whimpered but didn't resist. The doctor splinted the broken bone the same as the other. When he finished, he moved to Daryl's side to check his head injuries. He grabbed Daryl's chin and looked at his eyes, searching for signs of a concussion. He said nothing, just continued his work. Next he pressed the bad bruises searching for more broken bones. The injured man focused on keeping his pain silent so he didn't set his captor off. Pete finally finished and stood to leave.

"Don't think broken bones mean you get special treatment," Pete said darkly.

Daryl glanced up and then looked back to the floor. He nodded in understanding.

"Good." With that, he was gone.

~

Even with the water bottle, Daryl was wasting away. No one came down to him except Pete, who just kept his wounds in check and threatened to keep him in line. Daryl got no food or good rest. He just got weaker and weaker as days passed. After a week, he was out of water and he couldn't move at all on his own.

Like today. Pete came down the stairs, calling to Daryl and telling him to sit up. The injured man didn't even open his eyes. Pete kicked his good leg, to no effect other than earning a small grunt. Pete knelt and pulled open one of his patient's eyelids, but the pupil barely contracted. The doctor huffed in annoyance and leaned back.

"Sit up, now."

Daryl's eyes cracked open and his breathing stuttered. He mumbled something inaudible.

"What?" Pete asked, leaning in.

"Can't..." Daryl rasped. It was barely a whisper. "Can't. P-... -lease, please, 'm s-sorry, I can't."

Pete rolled his eyes. "You can. Do it or you'll be punished."

Daryl's breath hitched. "D-don't, don't, please," The words barely escaped as breaths.

The doctor stood and went back up the stairs. "You'll learn to obey."

"Please, please," The broken man never stopped breathing the pleas. "Ah can't, ah w-want ta, but ah can't..."

Moments later, he heard scuffling upstairs and a cry. Then Pete came back downstairs, dragging little Sam along behind him.

"Do it, you piece of shit, or the kid pays."

Daryl watched the man pull the boy along, then throw him to the ground by his feet. Sam was scared, but knew to be quiet. It made Daryl's heart break.

The injured man's fingers twitched, then his hands clenched and released. He started to lift his head, but the movement sent a spike of pain into his already pounding headache and he gasped. His head fell an inch back to the ground.

Pete grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him to his feet, twisting his arm behind him. Sam cried out as the increasing pressure made his arm start to hurt.

"Get up now or I break his arm."

"W-wait, 'm tryin'," Daryl said frantically. He held his breath and rolled slowly onto his side, exhaling sharply as pressure was put on his damaged ribs. But he kept going as he heard Sam yelp in pain. Daryl leaned forward on his forearms so he could pull his knees under him to get to a kneeling position. Then he was up on his knees. His head pounded terribly and his vision swam sickeningly.

The hunter swallowed thickly and continued, holding one palm to the ground as he got one foot on the ground. That way he pulled himself up and his other leg got pulled up with the other one.

And, shit, he was standing. He had no idea how he'd done it, the past minute blurring away to leave only pain in his thoughts. He swayed dangerously, but luckily he was next to a wall he could lean on now that he was up. He look up at Sam and nodded to him.

Pete released the boy. "Go back upstairs," He ordered.

Sam didn't move. "But Daryl..."

"GO!" Pete bellowed. Sam went upstairs, looking back at the unsteady, obviously badly hurt, man that had just tried to protect him.

Pete made sure the boy had gone and closed the door before continuing. He turned to face Daryl, who was shaking like a leaf and barely able to stay upright.

"So that's what it takes, huh? I have to threaten someone else?"

Daryl paled and his breath went shallow. No.

"Oh, calm down, you're gonna have a heart attack." Pete walked over and wrapped one arm around him, holding him up from the side. "You're coming upstairs for dinner."

Daryl really almost did faint at that. "D-dinner?"

"Yeah, come on. You've been down here long enough, don't you think?"

Daryl nodded, relieved. Maybe he would make it out of this hellhole.

"You'll stay with us, you'll even have your own room," Pete explained as they headed slowly to the stairs, Daryl hissing when he had to put pressure on his stinted leg. "As long as you behave."

The injured man was growing tired of nodding, but he did so enthusiastically. "Promise."


End file.
